


Touches

by Persiflage



Category: Law & Order: UK
Genre: F/M, Heterosexuality, POV Alternating, Present Tense, Relationship(s), Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-15
Updated: 2010-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:16:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alesha and James explore their sense of touch</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touches

**Author's Note:**

> I blame the L&O: UK writers for this series of missing scenes because they made Alesha and James so very touchy-feely with each other during season 3!  
> Disclaimer: ITV owns Law & Order: UK  
> Spoilers: 3.01 – 3.07

Broken

The lights in the Old Bailey are being turned out, but still James and Alesha sit in the lobby, Alesha rocking slightly in her distress at the outcome of the trial. She looks up at the high, painted ceiling as the last of the lights are switched off, and James sighs. She starts slightly when his left hand covers her right as it clutches the edge of the bench, and when she turns towards him he sees his disappointment mirrored in her eyes.

"C'mon," he says softly. "Let's go and get pissed."

She huffs out a laugh, as if not quite sure just how serious he is, then nods. "Okay."

They stand, shouldering their bags and gathering up their files, then James slips his hand into hers and squeezes her fingers as they walk across the lobby.

"We gave it our best shot," he says quietly, and she pulls a face.

"Yeah. If only – "

"Don't," he says, stopping just inside the door and turning towards her. "'If only' is like a cancer that'll eat you up. It's over, and there's nothing more we can do now. George will appeal against her being moved into prison once she's fifteen, but until then we just have to go on."

She sighs heavily, lowering her eyes from his, and he sees her bite her bottom lip. He lets go of her hand to reach up and lift her face, cupping her cheek as he brushes his thumb across her mouth, then he leans in and kisses her gently.

His hand drops from her face to her shoulder as he pulls back from the kiss, then rests his forehead against hers for a moment. "Let's not get pissed," he says. "Let's go to bed instead." She raises her eyebrows at that, and he gives her a wry smile. "We don't have to, if you'd rather not," he tells her. "I just think that booze probably isn't going to be as much of a comfort as being with you." He squeezes her shoulder briefly, then lets go.

"I'd rather not get pissed," she tells him, smiling genuinely at him.

"Good."

* * * * * *

They head back to the office, dumping their files and paperwork there, and George sticks his head round the door.

"I thought you two were long gone," he says.

James shakes his head. "Nope."

"Well I'm off to see Mrs Reid," he tells them. "Why don't you two call it a night, and I'll see you tomorrow?"

James nods agreement, and Alesha says a quiet goodnight.

"Shall we?" he asks her a few minutes later.

"Your place or mine?" she asks.

"I don't mind, wherever you'd feel more comfortable."

"Mine, then."

He nods, and rewraps his scarf around his neck, then follows her out of the door.

They take the tube back to Alesha's flat; it's already busy, so James wraps an arm around her as they cling to a pole, and she flashes a grateful smile at him as he holds her steady against the jostling of their fellow passengers.

Back at street level, she slips her arm through his and he smiles, pleased by the gesture.

"What do you want to do for dinner?" she asks.

He realises they're near the indoor market that she favours, and nods towards it. "Do you want to do some shopping?"

"If you don't mind?"

"Of course not." He follows her across the pavement and into the maze of alleys and tiny shops. He finds himself watching her, watching the delicate touches she gives to the items she wants, and seeing the sweet smiles she bestows on the shopkeepers, all of whom seem to know her very well. In a sweet shop she insists that James try some of the freebies on offer and feeds them to him one sweet at a time, her gaze intent on his as if she's gauging what he likes or dislikes. Alesha and the little Chinese lady running the shop exchange a few rapid sentences which leave him wondering when she learnt whichever dialect they're using. They leave the market carrying several brown paper carrier bags each, and James follows Alesha along the crowded pavement in a thoughtful silence.

"You okay?" she asks as they pause at the front door while she fishes out her keys.

"Yes. What was the Chinese dialect you were speaking in the sweet shop?"

"Mandarin." She flashes him a smile before inserting the key and letting them in.

"I didn't know you spoke it," he says, feeling stupid for his ignorance.

She laughs a little. "No reason you should," she tells him in a kindly tone. "And I don't speak much – just enough to make myself understood."

They set their bags down on the hall table, before shedding coats, scarves and shoes, then Alesha gathers up the groceries and carries them into the kitchen. James follows, still intrigued.

"What other languages do you speak?" he asks curiously, unable to immediately recall what was listed on her CPS application.

"I learnt French and German at school, then learnt Latin via a correspondence course, and I can speak enough of Urdu, Greek, Mandarin and Japanese to make myself understood in the local communities."

"Wow." He's seriously impressed and says so, and she flushes at his praise.

"Languages come easily to me," she tells him, then turns to put the kettle on.

He makes a pot of tea while Alesha puts away some of her purchases, then gets out a wok to make dinner with the rest. James insists on helping and she lets him chop vegetables while she slices the beef into strips and prepares the sauce while he cooks the noodles.

Half an hour later the food is ready and they settle in the sitting room, their plates on lap trays so they can eat and watch the early evening news. Alesha takes their empty plates through to the kitchen and returns a few minutes later with large mugs of coffee and a couple of plates holding slices of cheesecake.

"You are a sweetheart," James tells her when he sees she's brought him one of his favourite treats.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr Steel," she teases, passing him a plate and a fork, then setting his mug of coffee on the table in front of him.

"Oh well, in that case – " he begins, smirking at her over a forkful of cheesecake, so she rolls her eyes exaggeratedly, then starts to eat her own dessert.

Once dinner is over, they load up the dishwasher, then go to bed where James makes love to her slowly and tenderly. Afterwards Alesha snuggles up close, tracing patterns on his chest with her fingertips and teaching him how to say 'I love you' in all the languages she knows.

Hounded

As they sit in the office talking with Matt and Ronnie, Alesha's aware of James beside her, of the tension in his body and the tight grip he has on the edge of the table he's sitting on. He's been in a state of simmering anger ever since Darnell was given parole back in June, and nothing she's said or done has helped James to completely banish his fears that Darnell is just biding his time.

As they head back across town to the office Alesha slips her hand into James' and squeezes his fingers. "How you doing?" she asks, looking up into his tense and unhappy face.

He swallows hard before speaking. "I'm okay."

"Really? Because you don't have to pretend for me, James, you know that."

He sighs. "I know, love, and I really appreciate that. I just don't want to burden you."

"James." She stops walking and he stops too, looking down at her. She sees that the lines on his face are etched deeper than usual, and she wishes she knew a way to banish them. "Let's get a coffee and talk," she suggests, nodding at the coffee shop nearby.

He acquiesces and they get themselves a drink, then find a corner table where they can talk in peace.

Alesha sits close to him and speaks quietly. "James, please don't shut me out over this. I appreciate that you're trying to protect me in some way, but I want to help you – as your friend, as well as your colleague. You telling me that you're fine when you're obviously not, doesn't protect me – it hurts me. It hurts when you lie to me, even if you're lying with good intentions." She puts a hand on his arm as she looks intently into his face. "Let me help you with this, the way you helped me with Merrick last year."

"It's not the same thing, Alesha," he begins.

"I know that," she interrupts without hesitation. "Of course it's not – you've done nothing wrong, for a start. The Prison Service chose to ignore your advice, and you're not responsible for that, or for what Darnell does now he's out. But their decision is eating at you, and you don't have to bear that alone."

He sighs heavily, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don't know," he says softly.

"I do. Please, love, don't shut me out. You don't have to do this alone."

He gives her a weak smile, then leans in for a brief kiss. "What did I do to deserve you, Alesha Phillips?"

"Nothing at all," she answers, grinning at him. "I'm a gift."

He laughs – the most genuine laugh she's heard from him in three months. "That is unarguable," he says, then leans in for a longer kiss.

"Why don't you come for dinner tonight," suggests Alesha, after he releases her.

"Thank you, I'd like to."

"It's a date then."

* * * * * *

James has to stay for a meeting with George, so Alesha goes home ahead of him, leaving a post-it note on his computer screen: _Dinner @ 7pm. Don't be late! A x_. She puts on a CD and lets it blast through the flat while she prepares their meal, a salmon gnocchi bake of which she knows James is particularly fond.

The doorbell rings at six forty-five and James gives her a tired smile as he steps into the warmth of the flat. She helps him out of his coat and he slips off his shoes, then she wraps her arms around him and hears him sigh as his arms tighten around her.

"I hope you're hungry," she says, stretching up onto her toes to kiss him quickly, before taking his hand to lead him into the kitchen.

"Very," he agrees. "And thank you."

She looks up at him. "For what?"

"For this, and for caring so much," he answers.

"That's what friends are for," she says, squeezing his fingers. "Do you mind opening the wine for me, please?"

He nods, then picks up the bottle and the corkscrew, while Alesha checks the vegetables are steaming.

James brings a half glass of the Chardonnay over to her and she accepts it with a murmur of thanks, and takes a sip. He stands behind her and wraps his left arm around her torso, then nuzzles the side of her neck.

"As nice as that is," she says, aware of a pleasurable tingling sensation in her body, "do you mind saving it until after we've eaten? Only this is ready now."

He nips gently on her earlobe. "Very well," he agrees, moving away. "The food does smell good."

"So I should hope." She takes the salmon bake from the oven and he serves the vegetables – steamed asparagus spears, broccoli and carrots – and within a few moments, they're sitting down to eat.

* * * * * *

"Coffee?" asks Alesha once they're finished their meal.

"Yes please. Do you want me to load the dishwasher for you?"

"If you wouldn't mind." She thinks how lucky she is that James doesn't mind doing the domestic stuff, so that she never resents having him over for dinner.

They take their coffee into the sitting room where Alesha turns off her stereo so they can watch the news headlines instead, and they snuggle up together on the sofa.

"Now then," says James quietly. "I believe I was in the middle of something when you told me dinner was ready."

"You were?" she asks, feigning forgetfulness.

"I was. Allow me to remind you." He ducks his head and begins to nuzzle the side of her neck.

"Mmm, yes, I think I remember now," she says. She clasps his knee and squeezes it, then slides her hand up his right leg until she reaches his thigh.

He murmurs something indistinct when the circles she's stroking on his thigh migrate across to his crotch; she smirks when she finds he's already half aroused.

"Why don't we have a bath together, and then go to bed?" she suggests presently. "And if you're very good, I'll give you a massage after the bath."

James straightens up and looks at her. "Would you?"

"If you like," she says.

"Yes I would. Thank you."

"You're welcome." She gives him a quick kiss, then takes his hand in hers and leads him to the bathroom. At this point, she'll try anything she can to help him to relax.

Defence

"Well I'm naturally bad-tempered, but it doesn't mean I can punch you whenever you annoy me. Which you're doing now, by the way."

"I'd like to see you try," Alesha retorts.

The minute the words are out of his mouth, James regrets them. He's not annoyed at Alesha, he's annoyed that she's clearly right and, being his usual grumpy self, he lashes out at her. They walk in silence for several minutes, while he tries to work out the best way to apologise for his outburst. Glancing sideways he sees that she's looking anywhere but at him, and he swallows twice before he speaks again.

"Alesha, I'm sorry."

She glances across at him, then looks away. "It's fine," she says, lengthening her stride and he wonders if she's trying to get away.

He stops walking, intending to see if she does just want to get away from him, and she doesn't walk very far before she stops and looks back at him, clearly puzzled. He dumps his empty coffee cup into a bin, then hurries to catch her up again and lightly grasps her arm before she can move away.

"Alesha."

She doesn't pull away from him, but she does look at his hand on her arm, then up into his face, and he can see she's annoyed.

He lets go of her. "Please," he says softly. "I really am sorry. I shouldn't have said that about punching you. And I'm being unfair, taking out my bad temper on you."

"Yes you are," she answers shortly.

She resumes walking again and he follows her, wishing the street wasn't so busy, wishing he'd kept his mouth shut, and wishing he knew how to make things right again. Then he has an idea.

"I'll see you back at the office," he says, and she looks surprised, then hurt, but just nods, and James watches her on her way for a few moments, before turning aside to execute his idea.

* * * * * *

Twenty minutes later, James is back at his desk, but Alesha is nowhere in sight. He's just wondering whether to ask George where she is when she walks in. She doesn't look at him, and James feels a tightness in his muscles that hurts him so that he want to go over and hug her, but he restrains himself.

A few minutes after he gets back, there's a knock on their office door and a young woman walks in, a bouquet of flowers in her hand.

"I'm looking for Alesha Phillips," she says, and Alesha looks up, then gapes in obvious surprise.

"I'm Alesha," she says weakly.

The young woman smiles and carries the flowers over to her desk. "There's a card, too," she says, and hands the envelope to Alesha, then goes out.

James keeps his eyes firmly fixed on his paperwork, but he can hear the rustle of the envelope as Alesha takes out the card. He finds he's holding his breath and releases it silently as he waits for a reaction from across the room.

"James."

He jumps; he'd been so intent on not looking at her that she's crossed the room to his desk without him even noticing.

"Hello," he says quietly, searching her face for any hint of whether she's still upset with him.

"You're an idiot," she says, then leans in and kisses him.

He is surprised, but she's pulling back before he can properly reciprocate.

"I am very sorry," he tells her.

"So I gathered," she answers, nodding at the bouquet of orchids which he'd bought for her and which are now lying on her desk.

She leans against the edge of his desk and he looks up at her. "Pax?" he asks, touching her knee with his fingertips.

"Yeah. But you're cooking me dinner tonight," she says firmly.

"Absolutely," he agrees quickly. "Anything you want."

"Then you can give me a massage too," she says.

He tries not to smirk, and she swats his shoulder. "Oi, none of that," she tells him. "I'm not sure if I've forgiven you that much."

He nods solemnly. "I understand," he assures her.

"Good."

* * * * * *

Back at his flat, James cooks dinner for himself and Alesha with intense concentration on the task, shutting out all concerns about the case. Alesha sits at the kitchen table, reading his copy of _The Lawyer_ , and occasionally commenting on what she's reading. James feels slightly awkward, but less awkward than if she'd preferred to sit in the other room while he cooked; he's used to them either cooking together, or if he's doing the cooking, to talking about work at the same time. He doesn't like this distance between them, especially after almost losing Alesha last year, and he realises he's going to have to learn to keep a better rein on his bad temper.

After dinner, he asks if she wants the massage now.

"Yes please," she agrees readily. She smiles up at him and he tries to smile back.

"James?" She is looking at him with an expression of concern and he puts his hand on hers, watching her face.

"Alesha, I really am sorry about my outburst today," he begins.

"Shh." She reaches up and puts a finger against his lips. "I know that, silly. You don't have to keep apologising. I know you're wound up about the case and that's why you had a go at me."

"But I shouldn't have threatened to punch you," he says. He feels cold every time he remembers: he's never threatened a woman with physical violence before, and it sickens him.

"As I recall, you didn't," Alesha says. "You said you couldn't punch me whenever I annoyed you. That's not the same as saying 'If you do stop annoying me, I'm going to thump you'." She leans against his shoulder. "I'm not going to lie and say that you didn't upset me, because you did. But I forgive you, and I'm perfectly willing to forget about it if you are."

"How can I forget it?" he asked. "I threatened you with violence."

"James – " She shakes her head and instead of continuing whatever she was going to say, she cups his cheek in her hand and kisses him.

He puts an arm around her to hold her steady, and is surprised when she pulls away, then climbs onto his lap and begins kissing him again. He kisses her back, then starts when she slips a hand inside his shirt, which he hadn't noticed her unbuttoning, and rubs a hand over his chest.

"When was the last time you hit someone?" she asks, after they've caught their breath again.

"I was six," he says. "A bully had snatched my friend Daisy's teddy bear from her, and threw it up into a tree. I chased him around the playground, then smacked him when I caught up with him. The teachers broke it up before it could become a fight."

Alesha laughs softly. "It's a wonder you didn't become a policeman rather than a lawyer," she says.

"I did think about it when I was older," he tells her. "But I realised I was more suited to being a lawyer."

"Don't you think you're worrying too much, if it's nearly forty years since you last hit someone, about a comment made in the heat of anger and frustration?"

"I just don't want to be the kind of man that threatens women," he says, "especially not the woman he loves."

"James, you're not that kind of man. I know those sort of men – I saw enough of them when I was growing up – and you're not like them." She gives him a quick kiss on the mouth, then slides off his lap. "C'mon Mr Steel, you owe me a massage." She grabs his hand and tugs, and he gets up from the sofa, then scoops her up into his arms and carries her, giggling, into his bedroom. Perhaps everything between them will be okay after all, he thinks.

* * * * * *

Confession

James leans a hand on the seat of the sofa as Alesha excitedly explains the outcome of her research into PTSD.

"So if we prove that Nugent's abuse caused PTSD, we can charge him with manslaughter," she finishes, giving him an expectant look.

"Good morning to you too," he responds, moving his hand to her back as he leans in for a kiss. He feels her shudder slightly and can't resist deepening the kiss as he slides his hand up to cup the back of her head.

"James," she gasps, one hand clasping his knee.

"Alesha?" He wishes that he'd known she was going to be pulling an all-nighter, he'd have got here earlier this morning, or even stayed at the office last night to help her.

"Not here," she says.

"Then where?" he asks.

"Time is it?"

He turns his wrist to check his watch. "Eight o'clock. George won't be in for another forty five minutes."

"Come on then." She gets to her feet, and drops her coat onto the sofa, then takes his hand and leads him down the corridor. Hardly anyone else has arrived yet, and he feels a rush of desire when she unlocks the door to the archive room, giving him a mischievous grin. They slip inside and Alesha locks the door again before turning to James, who immediately puts his arms around her and ducks his head to kiss her deeply.

He's startled into a moan when Alesha's hands go to his belt and she begins unfastening his trousers. He lifts his head and looks at her closely.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks in a low voice. Normally he's lucky to sneak a kiss from her when they're at work.

"Yes!" she says in an insistent whisper.

He fishes in his inside jacket pocket while she frees his semi-hard cock, which quickly stiffens in response to her touches and his excitement about their illicit activities. He bites back a moan as Alesha strokes him while he gets the condom packet undone, then he sheathes himself.

She moves over to a nearby table which is clear of files at present, and bends over it, looking back at James over her shoulder.

"Jesus, Alesha," he breathes, moving to join her. He lifts up her skirt, then pulls down her knickers (a pair of red silk ones that he bought her for Christmas). She obligingly moves her legs further apart, and he slips a hand between her thighs to check that she's ready for him.

"Please, James," she says, her voice husky.

He discovers she's slick with arousal, and wastes no more time in guiding himself into her heated core. She moans softly as he fills her and he shifts his hand from her right hip to place a finger over her lips.

"Shh," he says quietly. "If you're too loud, we'll get caught."

She takes his finger into her mouth and he has to bite back a moan of his own. He lets her suck on his finger as he begins to thrust quick and hard.

"We'll do this properly tonight," he tells her, all too aware that he's not going to last long and that they don't have much time to spare anyway.

Alesha mumbles an agreement around his finger, which she's still holding in her mouth; then she sucks on it especially hard while also squeezing her muscles around his cock, and James buries his face in her neck to stifle his groan as his release hits him. He feels her shudder beneath him, and realises she's come too.

"All right?" he asks quietly, and she allows him to retrieve his finger before murmuring an affirmative response.

They straighten themselves out, then each grab a random file and Alesha lets herself out of the archive room, then James follows a few moments later, relieved that there still seems to be hardly anyone around.

Today, he decides, is going to be almost unbearably long.

Survivor

"Maybe she didn't have your brains," James suggests, "or your balls." He smirks and Alesha feels heat flooding her body in response.

She eats her own lunch before going to see Tamika's mum; all the time that she's talking to Mrs Vincent, James' comment keeps coming back to her and she thinks that, despite the cheeky smirk, he had sounded proud of her, and she values that.

James is on the phone when she gets back, so she sheds her coat and scarf, then picks up her coffee mug. She catches his eye and points to the mug, and he nods agreement; when she returns with two coffees he's finished his call, so she goes to sit at his desk to tell him what she's learned.

"How's the throat?" he asks once they've finished their discussion.

Alesha lifts a hand to fleetingly touch the side of her neck. "Still a bit sore," she answers.

"Poor love," he says softly. He reaches up a hand and lightly strokes the same spot with the tips of his fingers.

"James," she says, his name coming out as a strangled whisper.

He pulls her chair closer with his free hand, then leans forward to briefly nuzzle her neck.

"Oh god," she gasps, feeling a surge of desire.

"No, just a senior prosecutor," he murmurs, and she chokes back a laugh.

"James, please don't, not here." She pulls back a little and he moves away.

"Come and have dinner with me tonight, then," he suggests. "Let me give you some proper TLC."

"I'd rather go back to mine," she says. "But you can still cook for me, if you like."

"Deal," he agrees. He squeezes her knee, then pushes the chair away again.

* * * * * *

They stop off in the market for food since James is cooking, and he insists on visiting the sweet shop to buy some of her favourites, though he won't let her come into the shop with him as he says he wants it to be a surprise.

Back at her flat, he insists she should put her feet up while he cooks, so she settles down at the kitchen table and they talk a bit about her childhood and her student days as he prepares vegetables and makes a sauce for the salmon steaks he's grilling.

They eat in the kitchen, but move into the sitting room with their coffee and the remains of the bottle of wine. James sits with his feet on the coffee table, and Alesha snuggles up to him, her feet tucked under her as she leans against his right side. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and they watch the news headlines together.

"How about some music?" he asks afterwards, so she grabs the remote for her music system and switches it on. He smiles when he recognises Gershwin's 'An American in Paris', a CD that he bought for her a few weeks ago after they'd been discussing jazz and classical music.

"You like it then?"

"Yes," she agreed immediately. "Thanks for introducing me to Gershwin."

"You're welcome." He turns towards her. "Now, I believe we were in the middle of something earlier," he says, and ducks his head to nuzzle the side of her neck again.

She moans, then tilts her head away from his so that he has easier access to the tender area. As he's nuzzling, James begins unfastening Alesha's blouse, eliciting a gasp when he slips his hand inside to cup her breast through her bra. He drops his left arm down her back and tugs her blouse free of her skirt, then skims his fingers up her spine to unfasten the clasp of her bra.

"Show off," she mutters when she realises what he's done.

He chuckles against her skin, then pushes the silk bra off her breast and thumbs her nipple, causing her to moan. He switches from nuzzling Alesha's neck to kissing her, slipping his tongue between her lips at the first opportunity. He draws his left arm from behind her back so that he can free her other breast from her bra, and he holds the back of her head with his right hand as he deepens the kiss.

"God, James," she gasps, when he finally pulls away so they can catch their breath.

He lifts his eyebrows. "Yes, Alesha?"

"I want you," she says softly, and he grins in delight.

He sits up straight so he can get a condom out of the pocket of his jacket which is draped over the back of the sofa. Alesha, meanwhile, leans in and unfastens his belt, then his button and zip; it's his turn to gasp when she slips a hand into his trousers and frees his erection.

He wastes no time in sheathing himself as she moves backwards on the sofa to stretch out in readiness. He smirks at her when he reaches under her skirt for her knickers and finds the silk is damp with her arousal.

"All right, Mr Steel, no need to look quite so smug," she admonishes, but she's grinning at him from her supine position.

"Yes my lady," he responds, before moving between her legs. "Ready?"

She nods, and he lowers his body over hers, slipping into her slick heat with a murmur of pleasure. Then he goes back to nuzzling the side of her neck, even as he begins to thrust, and she pulls his shirt free of his trousers so she can run her fingers up his back. After a little while he feels her hands on his arse and she hooks her left leg around him, making it easier for him to thrust deeper. He wonders why shagging on the sofa while mostly dressed seems so exciting; it's not as if anyone can walk in on them, yet somehow it feels naughty.

"James."

Alesha's soft voice breaks into his thoughts, and he focuses his attention on her, seeing the desire in her eyes.

"Sorry," he says, giving her a quick kiss. "I was just thinking that it seems quite naughty to be doing this."

She frowns up at him. "Having sex with me?" she asks.

"Shagging on the sofa, with most of our clothes on," he clarifies. "Seems very illicit somehow, as naughty as if we were doing this at work."

She giggles. "We should do it on George's sofa some time," she suggests.

"Alesha Phillips!" he gasps, somewhat shocked, but also turned on by the idea. "And I thought it was bad enough having a quickie in the archive room."

She tightens her muscles around him. "That was fun," she agrees. "But I would definitely like to make use of George's sofa."

"Bad girl," he says.

"Very bad," she answers with another giggle.

He knows that the idea will nag at him now, until they do it, and he wonders if that's why she suggested it.

Masquerade

They've been in the pub for a couple of hours when Alesha reaches for him across the corner of the table, slipping her thumb into the palm of his hand as she holds his fingers. He wonders if she knows the effect it has on him when she starts to rub her thumb across his palm; he can feel the blood rushing to his groin as she caresses his hand and he gives her a slightly pleading look across the table.

"What's wrong love?" she asks softly.

"That rubbing thing you're doing – it's having a rather drastic effect on me," he answers hoarsely, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

She smirks, but lets go of his hand and he swallows hard, willing his body to relax again.

"I'll save that for when we're back home again, shall I?" she asks teasingly.

"Definitely," he answers, leaning over to kiss her swiftly on the mouth. He glances around at the rest of the table, but no one is taking any notice of them. "What do you say we head back now?"

She smirks again. "Like that is it, Mr Steel?"

He flushes a little at the knowing expression in her eyes. "Actually, yes."

"Come on then." She stands up, and he follows suit, both of them pulling on coats and scarves. They quickly make their farewells, then fight their way through the full pub.

James holds Alesha's hand in one of his, and waves down a passing taxi with the other. "My place?" he asks as the cabbie pulls up.

"Okay."

He nods, and they climb in, Alesha tugging at her skirt and coat to settle them comfortably after she slides across the seat next to James. He rests his left hand on her knee, stroking her stocking-clad skin, and she leans in to speak in his ear. "You know you were having problems with that rubbing thing I was doing?"

He nods, then smirks. "Ah, this has the same effect does it?"

"Yes."

He grins, and wraps his left arm around her shoulders, then leans in to kiss her, and she slips her right hand into the short hair at the nape of his neck.

They come up for air and James notices they're close to his flat. He asks the driver to stop, suggesting to Alesha that they get a take-away first, to which she agrees.

Twenty minutes later James lets them into his flat, the scents of the Chinese take-away wafting up from the carrier bag he holds. They shed their outdoor clothes, then he goes to the kitchen for eating utensils and something to drink, and Alesha heads to the sitting room.

After they've eaten, Alesha sits on the sofa, leaning back against James' chest, his legs on either side of hers as they stretch out together. His hands drift over her body, then the right one slips onto her thigh to travel up under her skirt. His teeth lightly scrape the back of her neck, and she feels his breath tickling against her skin as his fingers ever so slowly reach up between her legs. Alesha can't help lifting her hips slightly as his finger glides along her wet lips beneath her knickers, then slips inside her heat.

She groans and closes her eyes as James begins sucking the skin of her shoulder while he fondles her left breast through her shirt, and brushes his right thumb lightly over her clit. He switches to nibbling at her earlobe as he slips two more fingers inside her, and she can't help squeezing his hand between her thighs. She groans again when she notices the hard pressure of his erection against her lower back. James murmurs in her ear, telling her of all the things he wants to do to her to pleasure her, and between his words and the way his fingers are moving inside her, she is pushed over the brink. He continues to stroke her through the aftershocks of her orgasm, then slips his hand free, and she immediately reaches out to clasp his wrist, then begins to suck his fingers clean of her juices, and it's James' turn to groan.

Once she's finished, she pushes up off the sofa and turns to kneel between James' legs, cupping his balls with one hand, while unzipping his trousers with the other.

"Alesha!" he gasps as the air hits his cock.

She smiles up at him, then leans down and takes his erection in her mouth, savouring the way James twitches when she first slips him between her lips. She finds that the groan that he utters when she opens her mouth wider to take more of him down her throat, together with his shallow pants of breath, and the way he thrusts upwards when she cups his balls are all making her slick again. She pushes the thought away, concentrating instead on sucking harder on his tip, then swirling her tongue over the glans. She feels James beginning to tense up, and gives him one more lick that makes him moan, then she sits up, replacing her mouth with her right hand.

"Don't stop" he begs, and she smiles as she begins to move her hand on his cock, applying pressure in various different ways; she knows, based on the sounds James is starting to make, that he's enjoying the touch of her hand as much as he enjoyed her mouth just now.

Alesha reaches out with her free hand and rubs a fingertip across his lips. "I wanted to watch you," she says, and lets her other hand move a little more quickly on his cock.

James reaches for her hand as it falls from his mouth and laces his fingers through hers. He closes his eyes and lets his head drop sideways against the back of the sofa, and she can tell by the way his grip on her hand is tightening that he's very close now. She chooses to loosen her fist around his cock in order to draw things out for a little while longer, simply so that she can watch the look on his face: so open, so vulnerable, and full of desire.

After a few more shorter and faster strokes his hips buck upwards, and he groans as he makes a mess on Alesha's hand when he comes. Her touch slows until he's spent, and she watches him relax against the sofa again, breathing heavily.

"Okay?" she asks softly.

He reaches out and pulls her towards him, kissing her deeply before answering. "Very okay, thank you."

"Good." She straightens up and he smiles at her.

"Shower?" he suggests, and she nods agreement, certain that by the time they get into bed, James will be ready for round two.

Anonymous

"Trouble is, if you say you're the only one who used that computer, that means you must have sent the emails for him. So you'll be charged with harassment, and aiding and abetting murder," Alesha tells Wilson.

James is proud of Alesha's 'bad cop' routine; usually he's the one pressing witnesses or suspects hard, but he's been encouraging Alesha to take on that role more often lately as he feels she needs the experience. He knows that George feels Alesha cares too much – he's accused her of having a 'bleeding heart' or wearing her heart on her sleeve in the past, but James knows she's tough underneath it, she just needs to learn how to show that toughness when it's needed.

After they leave the prison, James drives them to the hotel, feeling relieved that George had agreed that they didn't need to rush back to London tonight.

"You do realise this is the first night we've spent together away from London," Alesha says as he pulls into the car park.

He glances over at her, smiling. "Yes, I did." She smirks, and he wonders what's amusing her. "It's a shame it's for work," he observes.

"True. Mind you, Valentine's Day is coming up." Her smirk widens into a grin.

"Yeah. Sadly it's too late to try and book anywhere half-way decent for that weekend." He looks regretful as he says it; he's not going to spoil his surprise and tell her ahead of time that he's actually booked a weekend away. He's even arranged with George that if they're not too busy with this or any other case, that they can finish up early on the Friday, and get in a little late on Monday morning. He just hopes that the gods will smile on them, because he plans to spoil Alesha rotten that weekend.

"What are you smiling about, Mr Steel?" she asks, breaking in on his thoughts.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that right now," he says, smirking. "It's a secret, but all will be revealed."

"Tease," she says, feigning annoyance.

"Yeah, but you like it really," he says, now grinning. He parks the car, and they climb out, then grab their overnight bags from the boot and head inside to sign in.

Alesha is amused when she learns that James has booked their room in the name of Mr and Mrs Phillips, and teases him about it in the lift until he silences her with a kiss.

"That's cheating," she protests when he releases her as the lift stops.

"All's fair in love and war," he tells her, taking her arm and guiding her along the corridor to their room.

"Hmm," she says, and he sees a glint in her eye that excites him.

"Do you want to order room service or eat downstairs?" he asks, swiping the key card and letting them into the room.

"Let's eat downstairs," she answers. "No one knows us, so we can flaunt ourselves if we like."

James chuckles. "Flaunt ourselves, eh?"

"Well, not really flaunt," Alesha begins.

"Oh, I think you should definitely flaunt," he interrupts, dropping his bag beside the big double bed and turning towards her. "If ever a woman should be flaunted, it's you, because you are beautiful."

He sees her flush as she puts down her own bag, and he wraps his arms around her, pressing her body against his. "If I had my way," he says softly in her ear, "I would flaunt you the length and breadth of Britain."

"James," she protests half-heartedly.

"Alesha." He breathes her name into her ear, then brings his mouth to hers in a deep sensuous kiss. He slides his right hand down her back, over her bottom and under her skirt, and feels his arousal intensify when he touches the dampness of her silk knickers.

"James." Alesha moans his name as he begins to touch her and he feels her quiver with pleasure.

He lifts her up onto the bed. "I want you," he says, his voice husky with desire.

"Yes," she gasps, lying back.

He lifts her skirt up, tugs her knickers off, and then frees his erection from his trousers. He fumbles in his jacket pocket, trying to find a condom, but Alesha pulls him down on top of her, and has guided his swollen member into her slick heat before he's finished the search.

"Are you sure?" he asks worriedly.

"I'm on the pill," she answers, "and unless you've suddenly started shagging someone else behind my back, I know you're clean, so I'm sure."

"Alesha, there's no one else who interests me even half as much as you."

"Then fuck me, Mr Steel," she says, her tone suddenly commanding.

"Yes my lady." He pushes himself deeper inside her, then begins to thrust as if he's trying to impale them both to the bed.

She shoves his jacket off his shoulders, and he lifts his upper body sufficiently to shrug it off, not caring where it ends up. He stops thrusting for a moment, his cock buried deep inside her, so that he can unfasten the buttons on her shirt (she's wearing his favourite one, a deep red that suits her darker skin and makes her look even more gorgeous), and she retaliates by unfastening the rest of his shirt buttons.

Suddenly he chuckles. "This might have been easier if we'd paused long enough to get undressed first," he observes.

"But so much more boring," she answers, raking her nails down his chest and making him shudder with pleasure.

"Mmm," he answers, leaning down to suck on her right breast as he resumes his thrusts. He always appreciates it when she chooses to leave off her bra, and it's something she's begun doing more often since they became lovers.

He brings her to a shuddering, gasping climax that tips him over the edge soon afterwards, and once they've caught their breath, they finish undressing, then take a shower together in the rather luxurious en suite bathroom.

"I think I've changed my mind about eating downstairs," Alesha tells him as he finishes drying her off.

"Oh?" He lifts an enquiring eyebrow.

"Yeah. If we eat downstairs, we'll have to get dressed again – and I'm not sure I can be bothered."

He gives her a wolfish grin. "Like that, eh?"

"Yes," she answers simply, picking up a second towel and approaching him with it.

"Very well then, we'll – ah – order room service." He's startled into a gasp when she cups his genitals in her small hand, and feels slightly embarrassed that he almost immediately begins to stiffen again.

She sinks to her knees in front of him, giving him a seductive smile, before running her tongue along the underside of his shaft. "I think I'd like that," she says, then gives him a little kiss. "And I think you would, too."

"Anything you want to do is fine with me," he assures her, pulling her back to her feet for another lengthy kiss.

"Are you sure about that?" she asks, when they break apart to catch their breath. "After all, I might say anything in response to such a tempting offer." She smirks and he laughs.

"So long as it's not illegal," he says.

"You're a bad man, James Steel, but I love you anyway."

"That's handy, Ms Phillips, because I love you too."

She leans her head against his chest and he wraps his arms around her loosely, thinking for the umpteenth time that he's very lucky Alesha came into his life.


End file.
